


should wear a warning

by ellipsesificate



Category: Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: BW Rarepair Week 2018, Hinted Megatron/Dinobot, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 16:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16537979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellipsesificate/pseuds/ellipsesificate
Summary: “Come now, my dear Megatron. When have you not known me to be perfectly accommodating to your needs?”“Only about any time I asked you to take of my needs.”





	should wear a warning

**Author's Note:**

> where the FUCK do you think i got the title from. only the finest for my otp.
> 
> was tempted to use mesothulas as tarantulas' pre-earth name, but a) i kept forgetting how to spell it b) seemed too confusing.

A job like this required a carefully vetted team, yes, and any orthodox leader could make their selections based off such trite qualities like “loyalty” or “skillfulness”. And absolutely, that was all very valuable, but Megatron liked to think of himself as beyond such conventionality.  

If there was anything that he’d learned under Cryotek’s tutelage, it was that you could never truly trust your subordinates. Even those who might swear to give their spark to your cause might crack, or simply lack the competence to fulfill their orders. When the best and brightest of a crew were bound to disappoint eventually, and any dim-witted thug could offer their favour until an opening for treachery arose. The key was not to avoid these obstacles, but to turn them into an advantage.

Still, even with Megatron’s rather liberal attitude towards team composition, he couldn’t help but feel trepidation towards his latest wannabe recruit. Personal experience went a long way in that regard.

“You do understand,” Megatron murmured, gaze burning down at the mech leaning against his side, “that you would have to offer up your _loyalty_.”

“Is ‘loyalty’ what we’re calling it now?” With a cackle at his own poor innuendo, Tarantulas drained the last of his drink. In the flickering lights of the club, it looked too viscous to be high-grade and not dark enough to be oil. He wasn’t entirely sure if Tarantulas had gotten it from the bar, and he preferred not to ask. “Come now, my dear Megatron. When have you not known me to be perfectly accommodating to your needs?”

“Only about any time I asked you to take of my _needs_.”

He could only imagine how this might look to an outside perspective—the two of them sitting so closely together in a booth far from the rest of the din, heads bowed towards each other and teasing. Had they known exactly who they were, or that the last time Tarantulas was in his berth it had ended in a very frustrating medical visit, they might have a less rosy view.

Still, Megatron couldn’t deny that Tarantulas had certain assets outside of his carnal offerings. Given the shared illicit nature of their work their paths had crossed surprisingly little, but Megatron had heard of Tarantulas’ numerous scientific feats even before Cryotek had briefly contracted the latter and they found themselves slipping away together.

Credentials weren’t an obstacle; Tarantulas was best known for his inventiveness and admirable atrocities. His cursory pretensions at faithfulness were almost a relief compared to the cloying sycophancy, and he offered much more flexibility than Dynobot’s rigid dignity (both of which he’d sampled in many ways). Yet, warnings still flashed in the back of his processor as Tarantulas’ claws crept up the inside of Megatron’s thigh.

“Tell me, my dear,” Megatron said, idly tapping the edge of his own barely touched drink. “I’d never doubt your sources, but I do wonder what gave you the impression that I have any current designs in mind where your skills might prove fruitful…?”

Chittering, Tarantulas wave a hand vaguely in the air. “Oh, you know how Predacons are—always something to chat about.”

The loudmouth flyers then. Low enough amongst the Predacon ranks for Cryotek to dismiss, but apparently enough to catch Tarantulas’ interest. It seemed that he was always interested in the strangest things.

He didn’t miss how often these things happened to be his own business.

“Yeees, of course.” With one hand dragging down to the small of Tarantulas’ back, Megatron considered him as Tarantulas snagged the rest of his glass. Well, Megatron would hardly get very far in his goals if he wasn’t willing to take a few risks. “Tell me—what do you know about the Golden Disk?”


End file.
